


Contents of a Mislabeled Note

by moodymarshmallow



Series: The Elf and the Apostate [11]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-24
Updated: 2012-06-24
Packaged: 2017-11-08 11:47:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/442883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moodymarshmallow/pseuds/moodymarshmallow





	Contents of a Mislabeled Note

Maker, he’s beautiful when I’m inside of him.   
  
Not that he isn’t always beautiful, but there’s something ethereal about looking down at him through my hair to see a sheen of sweat on his forehead, his jaw hanging slack, and his eyes rolling slightly back every time my hips move. He’s entirely mine in these moments, when we’re not so much fucking as making love, and we’re doing it in  _our_  room, in  _our_  bed, and I find that incredible. I tell him that—I call him mine, and he growls and keens, both agreeing and arguing with me, clutching me with the legs around my waist and putting dents into my shoulders with his fingertips.

We don’t get these nights as often as I would like. There’s always something pressing that keeps us out of the Keep, or leaves us too exhausted to undress, much less do anything in bed other than curl up and sleep. But when I have him for an entire night, and there’s nothing immediately taking him away from me in the morning, I get to show exactly how selfish I am.   
  
We did try it up against the wall, once. It was harder than I thought it would be, and a lot less spontaneous than the book made it out to be, if only because of how much preparation it requires to get him ready. He’s just so thin, with such small hips and it’s not as if we can just have a quick fuck in the larder with as long as it takes to get him stretched and relaxed. But we tried it anyway, in  _our_ bedroom, and though it was kind of awkward (turns out my knees buckle—terrible time to have learned that,) I had to put salve on my back afterwards because he’d shredded it to ribbons with his nails. Any night that ends like that is a successful one, in my opinion.

I can’t believe I’m writing all this down like some bad Nevarran author. Perhaps for the sake of authenticity I should describe how perfect and pink his nipples are, or write a few paragraphs on how his lips look when they’re wrapped around my cock. I think not—that would be crass.   
  
I should be writing about the important things, like the fact that he’s started talking more. I’ve learned more about him in the past few weeks than I ever expected to. For starters, he’s older than I am by _six bloody years_. I’d thought that he was younger by at least three—you can never tell with elves, can you?

He told me about his family, or lack thereof, and then finally about his dead lover in detail. I’m not really sure what to think about that. The way he speaks about him, even now…I really ought not to be jealous, but wouldn’t it have been lovely to be the first and the only? Even so, I’m foolishly happy with the fact that he’s only gone to bed with one person before me because I am a selfish, selfish man.   
  
But he’s mine now, or I’m  _his apostate_  as the servants at the Keep like to say (I might encourage them) and if I’m selfish then he’s needy. If we fall asleep in a position other than my arm around his waist, his back against my chest, he’ll wake me in the middle of the night by crawling under my arm like Pounce used to do the first few nights I had him. Or he’ll wake me up, desperate and intense, asking if I’ll touch him, asking if he can touch me.   
  
I don’t mind the interrupted sleep, because he really is beautiful when I’m inside him. Even if he’s often sitting on my lap where I can’t see anything but his shoulders and neck, I can still feel him and Maker, that’s an amazing thing.   
  
I should really end this before I get myself into trouble—


End file.
